On Your Porch
by PlrtzGlrb
Summary: R/J. First impressions tend to last. Rory and Jess get off on the right foot. Starts with Nick & Nora. Literati. A/N: Chapters 5 & 6 edited with a slight plot change at the very end of 6.
1. On Your Porch

**Disclaimer**: I think by now it would be a fair assumption that whomever may stumble upon this has assumed that I neither own nor legally am affiliated with Gilmore Girls. I know it may not be wise to assume that other people have made assumptions, but I'm giving the public the benefit of the doubt. Please don't screw me over here, kids.

**A/N**: My intention was to base this story on the song "On Your Porch" by the Format (great song), but I realized how AU it would have to be, so I decided to use my own rendition of the song to create my own rendition of Gilmore Girls. Crazy, right? I know, I need medication, and, perhaps, a straight jacket. Oh well.

* * *

On Your Porch

Chapter 1: On Your Porch

_

* * *

I was on your porch,_

_The smoke sank into my skin._

Jess took a step masterly onto their back porch with a beer in his hand and her copy of _Howl_ in his back pocket. Forget the fact that he was in Stars Hollow—population two—or that he was currently sleeping on an inflatable blue raft in his uncle's makeshift apartment, Jess now found himself being introduced to Luke's _pals_ at some goddamned Longaberger basket party where all anyone cares about is if he eats grilled cheese or not. _Grilled cheese!_

In an effort to escape, Jess had asked Lorelai's daughter to bail with him, but even she found it odd that he didn't want to be there. As a final attempt to clear his mind, Jess found a bottle of beer in the fridge and an oh-so-inviting door that led him to his current spot. If only he had not forgotten his pack of cigarettes at "home," he might actually be enjoying himself.

As Jess was removing the cap ever so gracefully from the glass bottle and preparing himself to (at last!) indulge in two to three minutes of blissful intoxication, Rory was offering to get the garlic bread from the oven. As she began unloading the bread into its basket, she realized that Jess was not in the kitchen where he ought to have been, and, after both checking her room and the bathroom, she ventured out onto the porch.

It was as he took his first swig that she found him, perched casually on the railing, eyes closed. He had a way of holding the bottle and leaning on the balustrade that was so serene. Rory almost felt guilty for disturbing him, except that he was supposed to be inside drinking coke and not outside drinking alcohol. Jess was, after all, only 17.

"I'm not exactly sure this is the parent-approved fun you're supposed to be having."

"An interesting observation you've made, Miss Gilmore. I'm not exactly sure this is the appropriate place for a young lady such as yourself to be gallivanting after dark."

"Gallivanting?"

"Damn, too much?"

"I'd say so."

"I was feeling ambitious."

"I see."

_And we talked all night_

_About everything we could imagine._

Jess had turned to face her as they conversed, and he now leaned his elbows on the railing so that he appeared even more tranquil than he had before; this tranquil, however, was accompanied by minor hints of annoyance and a casual smirk on his face. His glance held curiosity, admitting Rory to take a few steps closer. She approached him cautiously and, not wanting to make the situation awkward with their close proximity, took a seat on the newly installed porch swing.

Lorelai had said that it gave them a sense of belonging in their home. Rory had thought it a silly addition, though secretly she couldn't help but agree with her oft-rash mother. She began to rock peacefully, and Jess, his free hand in his pocket, slumped his tired figure on the other side of the swing

They swung comfortably for a moment while Rory contemplated their situation.

"You know," she began, but paused, letting the air clear.

He let her gather her thoughts, appreciating the fact that she was not verbally bombarding him. He had always had a firm grasp on the English language. He would even venture to say that his knowledge of his native language was remarkable, above average. Yet somehow, Jess always preferred not to talk unless necessary. He figured he had better things to do than gossip mindlessly or make small talk. "The verbal thing comes and goes," he would say to those who had a problem with his tacit tendency.

"Stars Hollow isn't as bad as it's cracked up to be."

"Huh."

"I mean, it's not everyone's cup of tea, but, as far a tea is concerned… it's very good tea."

He gave her a questioning glance, and she couldn't help but be amused at her own analogy.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that… Stars Hollow may not be as diverse or as exciting as New York, I'll give you that. But something about this place makes it feel like home. We have a giant yarn ball and amazing cakes and Luke's Diner and this awesome bridge where almost no one ever goes-"

"Bridge?"

"Yeah. It's this really quaint place, I guess. I go there to read or to clear my mind when everything else is too chaotic." She reveled on her past experiences at the bridge. It was a place that everyone knew about but only she ever dared go. It was old and worn and perfect and Rory was absolutely in love with it. Suddenly Rory realized that she had never actually told anyone about her use of the bridge as a sanctuary. It belonged to her like an abandoned tree house to a child, and now a stranger named Jess who drank beer and didn't read much knew about it. Rory couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

"Hey, we should get back to the party before someone comes looking for us. We wouldn't want to worry anyone."

A little confused by the sudden change of pace, Jess just nodded and gave a simple "Okay," and the pair hopped off the porch swing to go inside.

"Oh, and Jess," she began, and he looked up at her questioningly. "You might want to dispose of the uh," and she motioned to the beer in his hand.

"Right," and with that he tossed it into the giant green trash bin.

He couldn't help but be somewhat captivated by the simple way that she dismissed his flaws.

* * *

Rory was stuffed to capacity. Sookie's meals had a way of sneaking up on you long after you had finished eating. It was not a bad feeling necessarily, but it was a feeling of fullness and of satisfaction. Rory, who was known for her ability to put away large portions of food in single sittings, felt as if she would never need to eat again.

She had said goodbye to all the guests, though Luke and Jess had yet to leave, and retired to her room to read. Her mom and Luke were probably flirting unabashedly in the kitchen, and Jess… who knew?

"Knock knock," he called good-humoredly from her doorframe.

"Come in," she obliged as she looked up from her place on her bed. She was reading_ The Catcher in the Rye_, a book that Jess had read no less than 20 times.

"Huh."

"Yes?"

"Nothing, I just didn't really peg you as the type to read Salinger."

"Fair enough, I didn't really peg you as the type to read."

"Touché."

"Someone's been practicing their French."

"You know, sarcasm does not become you."

"Yes, but it does sustain me." Rory remembered Lane saying exactly those words on numerous occasions, after which the girls usually broke into a fit of giggles and were silenced my Mrs. Kim.

"Have a seat," she added, motioning to the chair by her desk.

"Actually, I just came to say goodbye."

She looked minimally upset, but she quickly recovered at the realization that he had at least thought to say goodbye.

"Oh."

"So goodnight, Rory."

"Night, Jess."

And with that he slid out of view, closing the door behind him.

Rory couldn't suppress her smile any longer.

**

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A/N:** What do you guys think? And no—that was not a rhetorical question. You see that button that says "go" right next to the drop down list that says "submit review"? I want you to click it and see what happens. It might be magical. Hasta luego!


	2. Oz

**Disclaimer:** As contained in Chapter 1.

**A/N:** It was raining the other day and I decided that this would be a nice transition from the first chapter. Hope you guys don't think this is too cliché or sappy. I thought it would be appropriate.

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On Your Porch

Chapter 2: Oz

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It was raining.

Rory had always loved the rain. It seemed so cliché, she thought, that she loved to take walks in the rain, but that didn't matter to her. She loved it. The end.

So as the heavens opened their floodgates and let the water fall on her earth, Rory awoke with a start. It wasn't yet four in the morning, but that never stopped her before. She pulled on her pajama pants, a raincoat, and some duck boots, and she went to the kitchen to write a note for her mother.

_It's raining. I'll be back before 6 in case you wake up early. Not likely you'll ever get this._

_Love ya,_

_Rory_

She felt satisfied with her note. After all, Lorelai was not one for waking up early, especially on mornings she considered drab.

She fixed a peaceful smile on her face and skipped silently through the front door. Though on any other occasion she would not dare sneak out, the rain transformed her; she was invincible.

She listened as her feet fell into step, gradually becoming one with the pavement. Her boots made sound at first, but as she found her rhythm, the squeak of her L.L. Beans came to match the pitter-patter of the rain. She let the droplets collect on her figure until her hair had matted to her skull and her clothing had grown heavy. She was warm despite the fact that she it was probably below 50 degrees outside and she was wet. Nothing could ruin moments like this, she thought.

She let her body carry her to the place where she felt most at home—her sanctuary, her palace, her kingdom. The bridge was the place that she commanded. The fish and the birds and the wind were her loyal subjects. It was hers from the time that she was young and the world was new. It was and always would be the Oz to her Kansas.

She approached the wooden mass as she would a friend. Eyes to the clouds and palms facing upward, she stuck out her tongue to collect precious drops of refreshment. She felt beautiful.

She closed her eyes and continued to walk to the very center of the bridge. It was there and only there that she could truly find her rainy day happiness. She had even carved her initials on her favorite spot when she was 10 to ensure that no one but she could claim it. It was as close to vandalism as Rory had ever come.

She opened her eyes to look at the bridge, careful not to fall in, and noticed a slumped mass seated precisely on her spot. Though taken aback at first, she quickly regained her posture and, determined to have her spot, stomped over to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

"Excuse me, but you're in my seat."

Rory gasped inaudibly when she saw it was Jess who had stolen her secret.

"I don't see your name on it."

"That's because you're sitting on it."

Jess shifted his weight so he could look beneath himself.

"Huh. R.G. That wouldn't happen to stand for "really gross" now would it?" He joked as he slid a few inches to the right. He would let her have her spot, but he wouldn't leave her alone.

"I haven't heard that one before," she passed, rolling her eyes.

Rory felt extremely out of place. She had made a mistake when she insinuated that she liked to come to the bridge, and now she would have to pay. She took her seat, much too close to Jess for her taste, and dangled her feet over the edge. The water was just low enough to miss grazing the soles of her boots.

Rory was agitated that he had disrupted her at the time when she was most vulnerable, and she had not enough reaction time to fully regain her composure. Still, she found that the hour and forty-two minutes she and Jess spent in silence on the bridge were comfortable. They let the time pass like words between good friends, effortlessly and all too quickly, and they absorbed rain like sponges, so that by the time Rory sat up to check her watch and declared that she had better get back before her mother noticed she was gone, they were ten pounds heavier each and more wrinkled than any shower had ever made them.

As she walked back to her other home, she fought to suppress the thoughts that she had just experienced the best day of her life before 6 AM, just in case anyone in Stars Hollow could read minds.

---

Of course, Lorelai had not noticed that Rory had gone out. After all, Rory typically showered in the morning, so it would not have been odd to find that she was wet. Rory had successfully snuck back in and disposed of the post-it note she had left on the counter, after which Rory jumped in the shower to erase the smell of rain that had mingled with Jess' wet leather and cigarette smoke. By the time Rory had finished showering, it was only 5:59, so Rory took her time dressing.

She wore the same outfit every day, as Rory attended Chilton, but for some reason she felt like making an extra effort that morning. After all, as she refused to admit, it was the best day of her life so far. She curled her hair the way her mom had once showed her, first blow-drying it till damp than using a round brush to create large, soft waves. She even placed a more heavily tinted than usual lip-gloss in the front pocket of her oversized yellow backpack so she could reapply later if necessary. Feeling confident in her appearance and ready to begin the day, she went to wait for her mother in the kitchen.

Her mother stumbled into the room on one heel three minutes later, mumbled "Luke's," pulled on her other shoe, and, grabbing her purse from the banister, exited the house with Rory at her tail.

It was still raining, though it had reduced to more of a sprinkle since earlier that morning, so the pair raced for the Jeep. Lorelai was at Luke's before Rory had enough time to buckle her seatbelt. Clearly, Lorelai and Rory differed greatly in their opinions of rainy days.

"Coffee!" Lorelai demanded, making her way to the counter. Though Rory had gotten an early start, her extra primping had left no time to spare, and she had only 10 minutes to eat and get to the bus stop. Luke, however, had expected the girls to be late that morning.

He grunted affectionately as he set identical plates of pancakes before the two.

"No coffee?" Lorelai pouted, though clearly pleased that Luke had made them breakfast in anticipation of their late arrival.

"Thank you, Luke," Rory beamed, as Luke began to protest. He cared for them enough to try to refuse them coffee but too much to be able to resist.

After her first sip of caffeine, Lorelai was alert enough to take in her daughter's appearance.

"Hey, what's the occasion? I don't think your history test will make itself any easier for you just because you got all sexed up."

"I am not sexed up!" Rory protested defiantly.

"Are to are to are to!"

"Am not am not am not!"

"Boo, you're no fun."

"I've succumbed to your influence."

"Gasp! Dirty!"

"Jesus," Luke exclaimed. "Would you two knock it off?"

"Yes, I am Jesus, and no, I will not," Lorelai quipped.

With a sigh, Luke went to take another customer's order, and Jess made his way through the curtain.

"Hi," he said upon seeing Rory.

"Hi," she returned awkwardly.

"Hi," Jess nodded to Lorelai.

"Good morning, Jess," Lorelai answered, confused by the scene unfolding before her.

"Bye," Rory dismissed herself, mouth full of pancakes.

"Bye," said Lorelai and Jess simultaneously.

Rory walked out the door and to the bus stop without having to shield her hair from the rain, as it had stopped.

Jess shoved his hands in his pockets and went back behind the curtain.

"I think I'm losing it," Lorelai mumbled to herself once Jess had made his exit.

"What the hell was that?" Luke gruffed.

"Who knows."

And with that, Lorelai finished her pancakes, ordered another cup of coffee to go, and hopped in her Jeep.

**---**

**A/N:** What time is it? REVIEW TIME! I can't heeeeaar youuu? REVIEW TIME! Oooohhhh… (breaks into song). Please, for my mental sanity, review. Thank you.


	3. Lovely Things to Say

**Disclaimer**: Why don't you just get a dictionary?

A/N: Oh, to have five days off for Thanksgiving and nothing to occupy my time but Gilmore Girls DVDs and this. Sigh…

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On Your Porch

Chapter 3: Lovely Things to Say

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Dean. Rory often thought at night if there was an appropriate word for Dean. She was far too private to even keep a journal, for fear that someone might come across it one day. So she cataloged thoughts in her head. She could pull them out, reference them if need be. Her mind had a sort of superb efficiency that Adrian Monk himself would have envied.

Late at night when her dreams failed to seduce her into a deep enough sleep, Rory thought semi-consciously about her trusty companion. Was that really all he was? Nice Dean, caring Dean, loyal Dean, loving Dean. Perfect Dean. Rory, in her state of deep pondering, wondered if Norman Rockwell love really could exist. Was it fulfilling?

These, of course, were thoughts that the fully conscious Rory would not ever admit to thinking. Could she extract these thoughts from the depths of her brain, sure, but would she ever confess to thinking them? That was highly unlikely.

Rory and Dean had been an item for so long that Rory could barely remember the date of their first kiss at Doose's. She had been so innocent then. To tell Rory that less than a year had passed since the affair on isle four (was it four?) would give her a shock. Had it really only been that long?

This Rory, who existed only between midnight and sunrise, the Rory who would lie in bed awake till 11 on a Saturday so she could close her eyes and think of all the things she had wanted to have dreams about, was unlike the Rory seen by passers-by. This Rory was bold and blunt and open to suggestions and changes. This Rory was the first to say that maybe she and Dean weren't meant to be.

Rational, practical, safe, everyday Rory would hear nothing of that. She _thought_ that she and Dean were perfectly in love and happy and meant to be. And on paper, they were. Any pro-con list Rory had ever made would show that Rory and Dean made the perfect e-harmony match. The high school jock and the small town princess. Wholesome yet moderately scandalous.

So it was only between midnight and sunrise that Rory thought of Jess. She thought of how he was more interesting than Dean would ever be in the sense that he challenged Rory and made her think. She thought of how, despite the fact that she wished he would quit, she loved that Jess smoked because of the way the scent lingered in his skin, not unpleasantly at all. She thought of the way he looked when he thought no one else was watching him. She had caught her first glimpse of this Jess when he snuck out of the dinner party to relax on her back porch. It was the very first time she had seen him at all. And she thought of what it would be like for him to hold her in his arms. She did not think of them kissing or of them making love, simply, she thought of the two of them curled comfortable by a fire, or, perhaps on the bridge, reading, talking, whatever. Just being.

She wanted that with someone—the ability to just be with someone for hours on end, not necessarily feeling the need to say something to clear the air. Comfortable silence was what Rory longed for more than anything. She wanted the kind of silence she had experienced for an hour and forty-two minutes that rainy morning on the bridge.

But at 5:45 when Rory awoke to the sounds of cheery chickens, she pushed aside all thoughts from the night to the back of her mind, only to be revisited later that night or on another night when dreams failed to find her.

---

"Pineapples?" Lorelai questioned in disbelief.

"For the last time, yes! Pineapples!" Rory cried exasperated.

"That's so random. And ironic. Who is deathly allergic of pineapples?"

"Well, apparently Alec the fruit guy."

"But why would you become a fruit guy if you know that you go into anaphylactic shock if you eat a pineapple. I mean honestly. 'What do you want to be when you grow up, _Al_?' 'Oh, I dunno, maybe a fruit guy, so I can die of something more interesting than old age.'"

"Ahem," Luke articulated in a final attempt to grab the babbling duo's attention.

"I'll have the usual," Lorelai dismissed.

"Me too, me too!"

"What do you mean, 'the _usual_?' You get something different every time you come in here!"

"I beg to differ! Come on, tell him, Rory."

"Well, he's got a point there."

"Oho! What? Don't make me disinherit you."

"Or you could just order so I don't have to give the table to someone who will," Luke said in irritation.

"We're the only two people in here!" Lorelai protested.

"Hey!" Kirk cried.

"Fine," Luke began, "but could you make up your damn mind already."

"Pancakes with a side of pancakes," beamed Lorelai.

"Ooh, ooh! Me too!" Chimed Rory.

"And with those little sausage thingies. And lots of maple syrup."

"Me too, me too!"

"Yeah, Luke, her too!"

"You two disgust me," scoffed Luke as he made his way back to the counter.

"He loves us," Lorelai said so Luke could hear her.

"He sure does," Rory agreed with equal audibility.

Luke just shook his head and read the order to Caesar.

---

The Stars Hollow Used Book Fair was just around the corner, and in Rory's world that meant comfortable shoes, crisp autumn air, and stacks upon piles upon mounds of 5¢ pocket-sized editions of her favorite must-reads. Yes, for Rory Gilmore, the Stars Hollow Used Book Fair was the harbinger of fall.

The distinctive smell of aged paperbacks would once again fill the air. Fall would begin to settle in—her favorite season by a landslide. Various reds and oranges and yellows and greens would litter the streets. No matter how many outrageous carnivals and celebrations Stars Hollow may have put together in the past, the book festival was by far its greatest accomplishment.

Rory had one tradition in particular in relation to the book fair. She would shower at night so as to be clean and fresh in the morning. She would hop noiselessly out of bed at 6 AM the Saturday of the book fair so as not to wake her mother, throw on a previously put-together outfit—a pair of jeans, a comfortable but fall-savvy sweater, and some good all-day sneakers—and walk to Luke's.

The sun had only just begun to rise in the sky by the time Rory had made it out the door, so the sky was coated in a thick, pale gray mist that was able to sufficiently light her way. Rory hoped that the brilliant autumn blue would peek through in good time, but she did not occupy herself too much with this dilemma.

She was alone on the streets, for everyone in Stars Hollow was either just waking up or still in bed, but she did not feel lonely. The familiar town enveloped her much like a dear friend would in a hug, and she graciously returned the gesture by letting her feet carry her to the gazebo before she reached her final destination. She sat for a while with her hands on her knees so that she could lean comfortably forward and take in the scenery. The trees with their leaves, the leaves with their ever-changing pigments—she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nostrils. The cool, crisp air filled her lungs and she let it out with a content sigh. She suddenly felt alive and fresh in a way that even coffee could not make her feel. It was a feeling of rebirth.

With a spring in her step and a happy countenance, Rory headed from the gazebo toward Luke's.

"Morning, Luke," Rory greeted pleasantly as she half-skipped over to the counter.

"It's times like these I truly doubt that you are your mother's daughter."

"Coffee?"

"And then I say to myself, 'What the hell, are you crazy? Of course she's Lorelai's daughter. They practically inhale coffee."

Rory just smiled in response to Luke's opposition to the Gilmore girls' caffeine intake. He was probably right, after all, but it still was comical to witness how worked up he could get over something so seemingly unimportant as the amount of coffee a couple of small-town girls consumed on a daily basis.

As Luke set Rory's mug before her, the phone began to ring. He simply grunted in response to the disturbance and, after four sonorous "brrrrrrrings", Luke picked up.

At the same time, a thud was heard from upstairs. Rory assumed that Jess had been woken by the early telephone call and fallen out of bed. Luke heard the overhead noise, too, and asked Rory if she'd be willing to go see what all the "ruckus" was about. Not wanting Luke to have to cut his conversation short—Luke really did need to invest in some good cordless phones—Rory slid past the curtain and up the stairs she went.

_Knock knock_.

"It's open," he called sleepily and annoyed.

"Huh," was his response at seeing that it was a very awake Rory at his door and not, well, a very annoying and gruff Luke.

"Yeah, Luke was…and the phone, and then there was a noise, so I just kind of came…here," she became somewhat flustered at the sight of Jess in such a state as this. He had only just woken up, after all, and it looked as though he was only just pulling on his pants as she entered. She contemplated her words after she had said them. Sometimes she truly doubted that her sanity was of a better quality than her mother's. Rambling incoherently was her forte.

"Okay," he nodded sagely. He turned around and walked into the kitchen, permitting her entrance further into the apartment. In those five seconds he spent getting from the doorway to the kitchen, Rory continued to take in his appearance. His hair had that just-out-of-bed look that people strove for but no one could ever really achieve unless they had truly just gotten out of bed. His hair was a little longer than it generally appeared in public, and Rory wondered if this change was due to growth or the fact that there was, at present, no hair gel keeping it up. She decided that she liked this softer look better than the usual gel spikes. It suited him well; it marked him as a sort of nonchalant and James Dean-esque. He was wearing a dark gray Arctic Monkeys t-shirt and some black sweat pants, and he yawned as he reached for a Red Bull above the fridge.

"Want one?" He offered.

"No, I've got a cup of coffee waiting for me downstairs."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

"That is an excellent observation," she conceded as she entered the kitchen section of the apartment and reached for the beverage.

"So, why are you even here so early? Isn't it some sort of legal offense for anyone related to your mother to wake up before noon on a Saturday?"

"I try to live on the edge, but only when sufficiently motivated."

"I see. And what might be today's impetus?"

"The seven-and-a-half-th annual Star's Hollow Book Fair," she announced as would a commercial spokesperson.

"Interesting."

"Yeah, the half-th is a bit strange. Taylor said they didn't move on to eighth because-"

"No, I mean it's interesting. The book fair."

"Oh, well… yeah, it's great if you're... into that sort of thing."

"Aren't you into that sort of thing?"

"Well, yeah, I am, but not many other people read very much, or at least in the same capacity as me."

Jess just nodded and made a quick round trip to his temporary bed-raft. Rory stared at him with confusion until he returned, _Howl _in hand.

"Oh, I have that, you know. I could've lent it to you."

"This is yours."

"Excuse me?"

"Relax. I just borrowed it. Left a couple notes in the margins."

She flipped through, mesmerized by the overwhelming addition of tiny black print covering each page.

"You've read this before?"

"About forty times."

"I thought you said you didn't read much."

"Well… What is much?"

"Apparently we're equating 'much' with Avagadro's number."

"You're gonna have to explain that one in detail, Miss Gilmore. I'm just not picking up on the humor in that reference."

"Good bye, Dodger."

"And here I thought you were just coming up to see me get dressed," he called after her retreating figure. "_Oliver's Twist,_  
he added.

Rory slumped into her seat at the counter just as Luke set her cup of coffee back down at her place.

"I heated it up for you. It was getting cold. By the way, what took you so long?"

"That miscreant nephew of yours and I were just having a chat about the technical definition of the word 'much'."

"Interesting."

"De ja vu."

"Won't ask."

Jess emerged from behind the curtain just as Rory was finishing off her second cup of coffee. He had left his hair as it was upstairs, much to Rory's delight, swapped his sweats for some loose fitting jeans, and thrown on a dark brown jacket and placed a copy of _A Separate Peace_ in his back pocket.

"Shall we go see what barn-raising shindigs this town can cook up? I think we should get going before Kirk eats all the books."

"Don't worry, that doesn't start until noon."

"At least we'll have something to look forward to when all the good ones are gone."

"Oh, that won't happen."

Jess lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"Hey, would I lie about books?"

"Yes, you would."

"Prove it."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"The first rhetorical question or the most recent?"

"When are we going?"

"Well, it starts at 8, so…" Rory glanced at her watch. "After I eat my pancakes."

"Oh, we all know just how much I _love_ watching you eat."

"Luke, could you throw in some chocolate chips?" Rory called, disregarding everything that Jess was saying.

_Jingle jingle_.

Dean walked into the diner, an inquisitive expression on his face at the sight of Rory and Jess exchanging such frequent pleasantries. He was in three classes with Jess this year and he had had yet to hear Jess say more than "huh" on any one occasion.

"Dean, hey," Rory forced enthusiasm in her voice. She was a little perplexed at the sudden arrival of Dean at 7:15 at Luke's on a Saturday.

"Hi," Dean said as he leaned in for a kiss.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, I know you have that book thing today, and I figured that I could take you and then maybe we could watch some movies afterward," Dean beamed at the fact that he had thought up that brilliant plan by himself.

"Aww, how thoughtful," Jess cooed from behind the counter.

Dean just gave him an annoyed and intimidating "don't-go-there" look and awaited Rory's reaction.

"Oh, well…" Rory put on a pensive and distraught expression and broke eye contact with Dean.

"'Well' what?"

"Well, that's really great and all except I kind of sort of already made plans with Jess," she said in a very fingers-crossed tone."

"What?" Dean said, annoyance clearly laced in with the apparent hurt and disappointment.

"Yeah, you see, Jess reads in pretty much the same capacity as me and I figured he would probably enjoy himself at the book fair, so I said I'd take him," Rory pressed, trying to convince Dean, though it was obviously not working; Dean's nostrils began to flare and he closed his eyes and sighed out of frustration. "Besides," Rory continued, "you'd probably be bored out of your mind, I mean watching me buy books for eight hours? What fun is that?"

"Yeah, well that's fine, Rory. Don't hang out with your boyfriend. See if I care," he called exited the diner.

"Dean, wait!" Rory cried as she went after him. "Dean, please. Listen to me," she panted when she caught up with him. "You…walk…really, really… fast."

He turned to face her and fought to control his breathing.

"Look, Dean. I didn't realize how much taking me to the book fair meant to you. I guess I underestimated your devotion to my happiness." Dean just gave her a look that said "no shit, Sherlock". "But... Jess has only been in town for a month, and I mean, someone ought to show him that this town isn't totally crazy. At least not all the time."

"Yeah, but Jess, Rory?"

"What about him?"

"That guy's a jerk! You know the other day he almost punched me?"

"What?" Rory's eyebrows scrunched and she looked truly perplexed, more so than she had all morning. Jess did not seem like the school-yard, _3 O'Clock High_ kind of guy.

"Yeah, he and Chuck Presby were fighting outside the school the other day and when I tried to break it up he started to fight _me_."

"Yeah, but Chuck Presby is a jerk, and I'm sure if Jess would've known it was you he wouldn't have kept going," Rory thought hard to rationalize Jess' actions. "He must have had momentum or something."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on your side, you know that, but I'm sure Jess had a legitimate reason for whatever it is he was doing."

"Whatever."

"Look, I already told Jess I would take him to the fair. Now if you really want me to go back on my word and ditch him to hang out with you, I will. And if I had known you were going to take me, I would have much rather gone with you. But you never mentioned before now that you had any intentions of escorting me to the fair, and I've made a commitment. I can't just back down. You _have_ to respect that."

"Okay," Dean sighed.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, if you can get Jess to participate in a town function, I'm not going to try to stop you."

"So you're not mad?"

"I'm not mad."

"Okay, and at four o'clock sharp when the fair ends I'll meet you in the town square and we can go to the video store and Doose's and have the world's biggest movie marathon. I promise."

"It's a date," Dean said and smiled weakly.

Rory grinned, satisfied with the outcome of the potentially very messy situation, and she pulled Dean into a longer-than-usual kiss.

"Four o'clock," she shouted at him as he walked away.

---

At 7:55 when Rory was polishing off her third cup of coffee and there was nothing left of her pancakes but syrupy crumbs and chocolaty residue, Jess and Rory left the diner and walked leisurely to the town square. In just five minutes, Gypsy would open the register and Taylor would take off all the tarps that had shielded the books from public view overnight. Rory felt a rush of excitement comparable to the feeling a kid gets Christmas morning when his or her parents are still in bed: that itch to open the presents immediately, the complete disregard of whatever consequences he or she may have to face once the parents wake up to find that half of the presents have already been opened.

At 7:59, when he noticed Rory check her watch for a 3rd time, Jess started laughing at her antics.

"What's so funny?"

"You. You've checked your watch like three times in the last three minutes. Sixty seconds won't kill you, you know."

"I know, I know. I guess I'm just really excited about the book buying that's about to take place. Is it so wrong that I anticipate it so much?"

"Not wrong, per say, but very amusing nonetheless."

"Well, I'm glad you find my shortcomings comical."

"Your welcome."

"Ooh, ooh! Here he comes," Rory said as Taylor approached the Gazebo.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Taylor began.

"Lady and gentleman," Jess muttered.

"Welcome to the seven-and-a-half-th annual Star's Hollow Used Book Fair. In just a moment, Kirk will assist me as I unveil each of this year's major book sections."

"That's right," Kirk began, "in just a few moments, Stars Hollow, the whole world, really, will lay witness to the great unveiling of the greatest treasures known to man: books. I'm talking volumes of paper printed with words, words printed in ink, all of them containing information-"

"All right, all right. Enough with the invocation, Kirk. Let's just get these tarps off," Miss Patty interjected from her seat on one of the gazebo's benches.

Rory and Jess stood in amused anticipation. Kirk had started to lift the tarps with a pair of oversized tweezers, trying his absolute hardest not to ruin the displays beneath.

"Oh, honestly," Taylor muttered as he tore the tarp from Kirk's grasp and lifted it masterly from the display.

"But you said to be careful!"

"I told you specifically not to rip the tarps off but to take care. I did _not_ tell you to be so meticulous."

Kirk just flashed an offended glare at Taylor and stomped off in the direction of his mother's house.

"Is this town always so exciting?"

"Only when Kirk is involved, but that's basically always."

---

It was noon and Rory was already exhausted from the extensive book buying. She had found a few gems so far: a pocket-sized _Inherit the Wind_, a pleasantly unmarked copy of _Howl_, an _Emma_, a modern-English translation of _The Canterbury Tales_, and _The Giver_, a book which Rory considered a modern classic.

Jess was also fairly successful: a collection of short stories by an Ivy League grad called _The Ant Farm_, classic Vonnegut in the form of _Slaughterhouse 5_, one of his favorites _A Farewell to Arms_, and a volume of poetry by Emily Dickinson that he thought Rory would find interesting.

"I got something for you," he said as he snuck up behind her in the Astronomy section, the year's exciting new addition to the used book fair.

"Ooh, presents!"

She looked expectantly at him. When he returned her look expressionlessly she gave him her best puppy dog eyes and hoped he would cave.

"Huh. You're gonna keep doing that innocent staring thing until I give you the book, aren't you?"

She just nodded triumphantly. He sighed in mock upset and handed her the Emily Dickinson collection.

"Oh my God, Jess! I love it! Thank you, really," she said as she grabbed him in a tight embrace. She pulled back and stared affectionately at the leather-bound book. He could still feel his shoulders burning where she had wrapped her arms around him.

"Wanna grab some lunch?" She inquired, still mesmerized by the volume in her hands.

"If you don't mind Luke's."

"Luke's is perfect," she agreed. "So besides my amazing gift, did you get anything good?"

"Yeah, actually. The first I'm not letting you borrow until I'm done-"

"Yes, you are. Continue."

"No, I'm not. It's this collection of short stories by this guy, Simon Rich. _The Ant Farm_."

"I want," she pouted.

"Yeah, and I want a million dollars."

"No fun."

"And I got _Slaughterhouse 5_ and _Farewell to Arms_, both of which I already own, but I left them at Liz's place and she wouldn't know where to find them to ship them."

"Wait. You actually enjoy Hemmingway? It's like reading a text book. The only required reading book I never finished was in eighth grade, when we had to read _The Old Man and the Sea_. And I was like, it's 100 pages about a guy who goes fishing, completely void of vivid language whatsoever. I'm pretty sure I only got to page 30 before I gave up. It was disastrous. I would've failed that test if it weren't for the fact we had _really_ informative class discussions. Mostly it was just me asking the teacher every possible question."

"Interesting anecdote. But, you know, Ernest only has lovely things to say about you."

She stopped walking and tilted her head in hopes of seeing him more clearly. Noticing that Rory was no longer walking in step with him, Jess paused, too, and turned to face Rory.

"Why are you only nice to me?" Rory questioned, no traces of sarcasm or cruel intentions in her voice. If anyone else had asked him, Jess would have doubted their motives.

"What?" He retorted, clearly cornered.

"I mean, you come here, to this town, I mean, you don't seem to care about anyone or anything, you get in fights at school-"

"How do you know about the fights?"

"Dean told me. But don't worry, I know Chuck Presby is a jerk." He nodded in agreement. "Still, you obviously have no intentions of making a nice-guy reputation for yourself or of being a nice guy, for that matter, then you're totally nice to me. Really nice. I don't get it."

"I guess... you wouldn't hurt me." He stated flatly. The words stung in an unusual way. Rory could taste the sincerity in what he had said. It was tangible. Rory now saw that Jess had been hurt badly by the people who had been in his life before. More importantly, Jess had chosen to make this fact known to Rory. What was most interesting to Rory, however, was the tone he used to convey this information. It told Rory that she shouldn't ask questions or let him knew that she knew what he obviously had wanted her to know. It didn't make the situation awkward or uncomfortable, but it bonded the two, gave them a ground on which to build a relationship. A weird and confusing and totally undefined relationship.

"You wouldn't hurt me, either." She pointed out in much the same manner, and she smiled slightly to herself as she began to walk forward, catching up with Jess and signaling him to continue with her to the diner.

---

Like clockwork, Dean arrived at the town square just as Gypsy was closing down her register. Rory had had a prosperous and semi-eventful day. She had purchased numerous novels, anthologies, and biographies. She had consumed a record-breaking amount of caffeine thanks to Jess' coffee connections. She had successfully quelled a fight with her boyfriend.

She had come to a new understanding with Jess about his past and his present. They had begun a real and extremely confusing relationship—one based on silent companionship and understanding.

Yes, it was only four o'clock in the afternoon, and Rory was exhausted from the day's occurrences. The last thing she wanted to do was watch five movies with her mom and Dean, but if she wanted to further avoid a fight and diminish all risks of her day being totally ruined, Rory would have to suck it up and convince Dean to let her pick the movies. If she was forced to watch _Lord of the Rings_ for the umpteenth time, Rory might literally implode.

Luckily, Dean seemed eager to please that night, so he let her pick out all the movies. The night's selections were _10 Things I Hate About You_, _Heathers_, _Better Off Dead_, _Clueless_, and _16 Candles_. All teen movies, all worthy of being called classic, all just the right combination of wit and mindlessness that she could lose concentration and not have to fight to stay awake.

Halfway through _Better Off Dead_, Dean made a comment about the poor quality of the dancing burger scenes, which, of course, got Lorelai all fired up about the authentic 80s feel it gave the movie, so Rory was able to slip out of the room for a moment to get a bit of fresh air. She went through the kitchen door and stepped out of the house onto her back porch. Once again she found herself on the porch swing, eyes closed, reminiscing about the day's occurrences and those from approximately one month ago when she and Jess sat in that very swing. She got a sense of nostalgia for the time when she and her mom were living in the garden shed at the Independence.

Rory recalled one occasion in particular on which Rory and Lorelai were dancing to "99 Red Balloons" and eating ice cream. The girls had collapsed on the floor in laughter and Lorelai started talking about the future. Lorelai had a way of talking about the future that wasn't scary or overwhelming. It resembled the way one recalls a happy memory. She talked about a big house with a wrap-around porch and a kitchen and separate rooms for each of the girls and a real fireplace. She talked about how on their wrap-around porch there would be a porch swing. Suddenly, Rory realized why Lorelai had bought the swing. It wasn't to give the two a sense of belonging to their home, per say, but to give a sense of completeness and reality to Lorelai's dreams and goals.

Rory snuck back inside to see that her mother and Dean had stopped arguing about the Claymation burgers.

"Hey, I was wondering where you went," Dean said, patting the place beside him.

Sitting where Dean had motioned her to do so, Rory gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "Bathroom."

---

A/N: Someone said "longer". I hope this sufficed. And seriously, folks, thank you so much for the reviews. The response was overwhelmingly in favor of my continuation. Keep it up. Really, or I might get un-motivated and lose brain cells and become physically unable to continue writing this because, in addition to losing brain cells, I will have lost fingers. It won't be pretty, I promise. I think, and this is totally precautionary, you should review.


	4. Small Talk and Realizations

**Disclaimer:** I've given up trying to think of clever and mildly-scathing ways to disclaim my stories. I don't own anything, at all.

**A/N:** It's been like...a year. I know. And I doubt any of my readers are still my readers. But, hey, if you read this, good for you! Review, please. If you have a pulse.

--

"Mom, we're late!" Rory hopped one-legged from her bedroom into the kitchen, attempting to get her saddle shoes on.

"No we're not!" Lorelai called from upstairs.

"Yes we are!"

"No we're not, the power went out last night!"

Rory sat down in a kitchen chair and pouted. It was Tuesday, and she had a pre-calculus test today. Not to mention a quiz on the American Revolution and a rotational kinematics lab in physics. Today was not the day to be late for school. She reached into her backpack for her phone to check the time.

6:00 on the dot. She didn't have to catch her bus for another hour and and fifteen minutes.

"Mom?" She called, getting up and walking towards the stairs.

She ascended them quietly.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

Lorelai was still in bed.

"I'm going to Luke's. You want me to bring you something, or should I just hang there?"

"I'll get up in fifteen minutes," (no, she won't) "Just hang out there. Bother Luke for me. Save me a seat."

"You got it, dude."

--

Since the Book Fair, Rory and Jess had gotten along comfortably. Almost too comfortably. At the diner, they either exchanged friendly pleasantries (usually in the company of Dean) or chatted extensively about whatever it was they were reading.

Currently, Rory was reading _As I Lay Dying_ for her AP English class, _Franny and Zooey_ for fun, and _Poems_ by Emily Dickinson on the bus.

The book that Jess had bought her had a hard cover. It was worn slightly at the edges, and it smelled like rain. She loved it.

Luke was wiping down counters. He looked up at the sound of the bell.

"Hey, Rory," he said, confusion in his voice and on his face. He looked at the clock. He looked at Rory. "It's 6:15."

"Power went out. I thought it was later," Rory explained. Luke nodded, still confused, but seemingly satisfied with her reasoning.

Rory sat down at the counter, and Luke wordlessly poured her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." She smiled appreciatively and took a long sip.

"Can I get some chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Sure," Luke said, nodding.

"And some bacon. Lots of bacon."

Luke shook his head and went back into the kitchen to make Rory her breakfast. Caesar didn't arrive until around 7. Even Kirk had yet to show up.

The bell chimed. Well, so much for that.

"Hi, Rory," Kirk sat down two seats over. He removed his coat and set it down on the seat next to him. "Luke, are you here?"

Luke popped his head out of the kitchen, annoyance etched in every line on his face.

"Of course I'm here. Hold on a minute."

Kirk shut up. He was suddenly fascinated by the condiment rack in front of him. He grabbed a handful of sugar packets and shoved them into one of his pockets. Rory grinned and took another sip of her coffee.

She let her gaze wander to the curtain. As Rory's eye's wandered, so did her mind.

Behind the curtain, there was a staircase. Up the staircase, a door. Behind the door, an apartment. Inside the apartment, Jess...

Jess had to be sleeping, peacefully, an expression of tranquillity gracing his handsome features. Like the first night they met.

His hair had to be ruffled. Slept-in. Loose and gel-free. She could run her fingers through it, and--

"More coffee?"

"Huh, uh, what?" Luke's voice brought her back down to earth. Back downstairs, anyway. She gazed into her mug. Empty. "Y-yes. Yes, please." She smiled a tight-lipped and reasurring smile. Her cheeks were hot. Kirk couldn't read minds, could he? Dammit, think about anything but Jess.

Cabbage patch kids. Uh, ring pops. The movie _Glitter_.

Dean. Think about Dean.

Luke set a plate of pancakes in front of her, and she smiled up at him, that same tight-lipped, reassuring smile. It was bashful and charming, and she didn't have the energy to fake enthusiasm.

"Kirk, you know we don't have corndogs here."

"But this is a diner."

"A diner. My diner. Not a boardwalk. Order something else."

"I want a corndog."

Luke groaned in frustration and headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he emerged with a hotdog and some cornbread.

"Rory, make sure Kirk doesn't light anything on fire. I'll be right back."

Rory laughed silently to herself. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her Emily Dickinson and began leafing through titles, looking for one that jumped out at her.

One did. The publisher titled it "If you were coming in the fall."

_If you were coming in the fall,_

_I 'd brush the summer by_

_With half a smile and half a spurn,_

_As housewives do a fly._

She read over the first stanza a few times. It's meaning became clearer and clearer with each re-read, and a smile slowly spread across her lips as she read. She thumbed through the pages again, keeping a mark on the page with the poem, and she found that she was in a section of the book entitled "Love."

So, it was arranged by theme.

She returned to her love poem. "I'd brush the summer by...as housewives do a fly." She smiled again. Just the thought of it--speeding up time, casting it aside--just to be with the object of one's affection sooner. It was endearing. Rory was no sap, but she liked the idea.

She finished her pancakes silently, casting a few glances in Kirk's direction. Luke may have been kidding about the fire bit, but Kirk definitely required some supervision.

She finished off the rest of her coffee, too. She sighed and glanced in the direction of the curtain. No Luke.

She got up and walked around the counter to pour herself another cup. She still had 45 minutes left till she had to leave. She needed more coffee.

"Hey, you can't go back there!" Kirk doth protest.

"No, Kirk. _You_ can't go back here."

Kirk frowned, but he didn't respond.

"You want more coffee?" Rory offered.

"Yes, please," Kirk said. Rory grabbed the regular pot. Before she could pour, Kirk stopped her. "Wait! I take it a quarter-caf, three-quarters decaf."

Rory rolled her eyes, but she complied with his request.

She returned to her side of the counter and continued reading her poem.

--

"Ow!" She looked up and saw Jess rubbing the back of his head. "Jeez..."

Luke followed shortly behind him. "I'll be back before you leave for school. Don't do anything stupid."

"Aye, aye." Jess saluted. "Hey," he nodded casually to Rory.

"Morning," she greeted. "Bye, Luke," she called as the diner owner made his exit.

"I see you're reading the book I got you," he said, gesturing to the anthology. He looked over the counter to see which poem she was reading. "

Rory's cheeks grew hot once more as he read the words in front of her. The sound his voice made as he recited the poem was almost too much to take.

"I, uh, really liked this one," Rory stammered.

"It's a good poem," Jess agreed.

"Yeah, it's very...nice." Nice? Was she serious? She had a much better vocabulary than that. "I never pegged you as the poetry type," she commented, looking at him as he read over the page.

"I'm not," he said pointedly.

"Well, so far, it's been Howl, Dickinson..."

"I'm _not _the poetry 'type,'" he said, using finger quotes to emphasize his distaste for the word.

"If you say so..." She fiddled with the spoon in her coffee cup, not nervously, but pensively.

Jess eyed her knowingly and supressed a smirk. Rory finally had time to take in his appearance.

His hair was the same as it had been the other day. His shirt was green. He was reading _The Sirens of Titan_, from what Rory could tell of the cover. Well, it was definitely Vonnegut.

"You should wear your hair like that more often," she blurted out, and she regretted it immediately.

"You like it, do you?" He pressed.

"I-I mean. It's more natural that way. I read somewhere that natural is in..."

"Huh. Did you hear that, Kirk, natural is in."

If Rory wasn't blushing already, she was now. His smirk was daunting. She could feel his eyes drilling holes into her head. She fixed her gaze on the empty plate in front of her. The syrup-y crumbs and half-eaten sausage seemed really appealing.

The bell rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. It was a random townsperson--nobody Rory knew--or, perhaps, a tourist. That giant ball of yarn pulled in a few visitors every year. It was good for things like that.

Rory looked at the clock on the wall, silently cursing herself for having left her watch at home. In her rush, she forgot a few things. It was almost 7. She had to leave by 7:20 or so to catch her 7:28 bus to Hartford. School started at 8:15.

If certain, when this life was out, / That yours and mine should be, / I 'd toss it yonder like a rind, / And taste eternity."

So, now that Rory knew that Jess knew that Rory thought that his hair looked nice when it was "natural," she could never speak to him again. God, when was her mother going to get there?

At around 7, the major diner traffic began to pour in. Jess, luckily, had his hands tied with customers, but Caesar had (got a call from Luke that told him to) come in early, leaving Jess to deliver food, take orders, and refill beverages by himself.

Even so, he threw his glance to Rory whenever possible.

"Young man." He watched her turn the page and bite her lip. Sip her coffee quietly, her gaze not breaking from the page. Her concentration really was impeccable. "I say, young man, are you listening?" A somewhat large blonde woman with a haughty-but-not-quite-British accent called for his attention. "I said, a regular coffee, with cream and sugar. No, scratch that, do you have any Splenda?"

Jess nodded and rolled his eyes, writing down her order. He looked at Rory again. She was engrossed in that damned book of poetry he bought her. He smirked.

"Two eggs, over easy. And a side of bacon. You do have bacon, don't you?"

He gave her a look that said, "We're in a diner. Look around."

She seemed offended, but she said nothing as he went to put her order in.

"Hey, Caesar. Two eggs over easy with bacon." He got the coffee himself.

"Anything else, ma'am?" he said, sarcasm oozing from his mouth. She didn't catch on, or she was ignoring him. Whichever.

"Actually, could I get a glass of grapefruit juice? I'm on a diet."

"Sure thing."

He was just annoyed enough with the woman to make her wait for the grapefruit juice. Or maybe he was just desperate enough to shirk his duties to go talk to Rory.

Silently, he refilled her coffee.

"That's like, my fifth cup," she said, incredulously.

"And you mind?"

"No, I just...Luke usually cuts me off after 3. Well, he tries to cut me off..."

"Do I look like Luke to you?"

She looked him over, tilting her head to the side for dramatic effect. "No flannel shirt. No backwards baseball cap. I guess not," she repressed a smile.

"I'm glad it's the wardrobe that made up your mind," he rolled his eyes, but he shot her a smirk before going to get the grapefruit juice.

Lorelai arrived five minutes before Rory had to catch her bus. She kissed her mother goodbye and waved shyly at Jess.

You need to cut it out, Rory.

She was left to her thoughts as she made her way to the bus stop. Jess was becomming a part of her daily routine. He was her breakfast, her afternoon pick-me-up, her dinner on all days of the week but Friday. He was the only other member of her book club. He stole CDs and books from her bedroom and returned them days later with scratches and margin-notes, respectively.

It didn't stop there. He was in her dreams. He was there, in that tiny moment before Rory would kiss Dean, right before her boyfriend's lips found her own.

She was disgusting. He consumed her, and she let him. She welcomed him, in fact.

Sitting down at the bus stop, she reached into her backpack for her phone. The bus would be there in 4 minutes. Probably longer than that, as it was usually late.

She dropped her phone into the depths of her bag and felt around inside for her book of poems. Not over here, not over there... She groaned.

She must have left it at the diner. She glanced back in the direction of the restaurant, only to find that Jess was jogging--jogging, really?--towards the bus station. Rory stood immediately, leaving her backpack in her seat, and went to meet him halfway.

"Jess, I--"

"You forgot your--"

"--book, I know. Thank you."

He nodded, panting slightly for lack of breath. Wordlessly, he took a few steps backwards before walking back to the diner.

Rory just stood there, awestruck. Dumbfounded. Whatever she was, she couldn't stop starring at him. Couldn't peel her gaze away. For a full 2 minutes, which, for Rory, was a long time to stand in the middle of the street and stare at someone.

"Rory?"

She jumped. "Dean! Oh my God, you scarred me!" She swatted his shoulder. He laughed. "What're you doing here?"

He pointed in the direction he was facing. "School," he said, amused.

"I know, but, what?"

"I should ask you the same thing. Don't you have a bus to catch? You're just standing here, staring at--" Well, what was she starring at.

She blushed and looked at her face. He followed the previous direction of her gaze towards...the diner. Dean flexed his jaw. The bus pulled up.

"Shoot!" Rory exclaimed, running after the bus. "Wait!" She grabbed her backpack and headed onto the bus. She shot Dean an apologetic glance as it pulled away. He waved pathetically back at her, and returned his gaze to the diner.

--

_A/N:_ Was this long? I can't tell. I don't have Microsoft Word. Hence the lack of spell check. Deal with it. And review! Reviewing is good. I approve of the reviewing.


	5. Snow, Part 1

**A/N:** I just finished chapter four like, 5...6 hours ago. This is unusual for me, to start writing so soon. But I'm on a roll.

Don't worry, it doesn't happen that often.

**

* * *

Chapter 5:** Snow Part 1

* * *

"Well...how long do you think you'll be gone?" She clutched the phone to her ear as she sat cross-legged, in the middle of her bed. Her mother had gone to a convention for the inn at a ski resort in Pennsylvania with Sookie, and they were snowed in.

"I don't know, hun. The convention trip was only supposed to last 2 days, one night, but all the roads are closed indefinitely. I'm guessing maybe anywhere between 2 and 8 nights?"

Rory sighed. Her physics homework sat neatly in her lap. She stared at it.

"Okay. You'll call me as soon as you get any more information?"

"Honey, of course I will. I promise, as soon as we can get back, we will."

She pushed the physics homework off her lap and leaned into her pillow. "I love you, mom."

"Aw, I love you, too, sweetie. Look, Sookie is about to-," Lorelai pressed her hand to the phone's reciever. "Sookie, be careful!" She removed her hand and said, "-light something on fire. I'll call you back. Money's under the rabbi. Keys to the jeep are in the microwave, in case you need four-wheel drive." Click.

Rory got out of bed and peeked out the window. There wasn't a cloud in the bright blue winter sky. She went to her closet and searched for her winter coat. She slipped on her boots by the door and grabbed a handful of cash from beneath the dancing rabbi.

Outside it was freezing cold, but Rory didn't really mind. Being a native New Englander had its perks, and imperviousness to the cold was one of them. She breathed out deeply and watched as her breath became visible in the crisp December air. She crunched left-over leaves beneath her feet as she made her way to the diner, letting the last remnants of autumn crumble to dust. On the way, she decided to make a slight detour. The movie store was a necessary stop, she thought, if she was going to make it through three nights without her mother. Maybe later she could call Lane and beg Mrs. Kim to let her stay the night.

Okay, so maybe that wouldn't be happening.

She headed straight for the comedy section and went from there. She picked out a couple of personal favorites. _Rushmore, Love Actually, Monty Python's Meaning of Life, Walk Don't Run,_ and, just for the hell of it, _Empire Records_.

"Might I interest you in a subscription to _Knitters Weekly Magazine_?" Kirk offered as he bagged Rory's movies.

"No thank you, Kirk."

"Are you sure? It has all the latest patterns and trends, tips and tricks."

"I'm positive," she said, making a quick exit.

The cold hit her as soon as she left the store. She shivered slightly, but she adjusted quickly enough.

Her next stop was Doose's.

She hadn't exactly been avoiding Dean lately, but she hadn't been seeking him out, either. Things between them were...weird. But she needed snacks, and Doose's was the only market in town. She made a shopping list mentally before she walked through the store entrance. The less time she had to spend in there, the better. Red vines. Marshmallows. Oh, hell, and some chocolate and graham crackers. Peanut butter. Oreos. Poptarts. Hot chocolate. Cheetoes. Fritos. Doritos. Now, if she could just find the-

"Rory, hey!"

"Dean," she greeted. She gave him a quick kiss on the corner of his lips.

"I see you're stocking up for the year," he said, eyeing her basket with mock surprise.

"Yeah, uh, movie marathon." My mom is out of town.

"So, you decided to feed a small army?"

"Yes, well..." No, just me.

He licked his lips. She suddenly found the sale on generic mayonnaise very interesting.

"Do you know which aisle they keep the mallomars on? I've looked everywhere, and-"

"Yeah, they're right over here." He led her to aisle four. The mallomars were stocked directly beneath the corn starch.

"Funny," she said, not realizing it was out loud until he responded.

"What is?"

"Huh? Oh," she blushed. "Nothing, it's just that," she picked up a box of corn starch and waved it around.

He smiled. "Why do you think we keep the mallomars here? You and your mom are the only people who buy the things."

She felt her stomach drop. It was such a sweet gesture. She suddenly felt ill.

"I-I have to go, um, pay. For the stuff." She raised her basket.

He eyed her, concerned, but he took her basket from her and walked over to a checkout line. Without a word, he rang her up.

"That'll be $20.14."

She pulled out a $20 bill from her back pocket. "Hold on, I think I have change."

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure, because-?" No, really, Dean. Stop being so nice to me.

"I got it," he said, starring at her intently. She nodded. He handed her her grocery bags and gave her a peck on the lips.

"Bye," she said as she exited the store. He waved.

Why didn't she just tell him that her mother was out of town? Ugh, the fact that she was even pretending, at this point, that she was surprised with herself for having withheld that information from Dean was pathetic. Of course she didn't tell him. He would've offered to come over and keep her company, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid. He would have wanted to watch _Lord of the Rings_ or make out or...something. What did they even do together? Her brain was fried. She needed coffee. She needed-

The bell chimed. She sat down at a table, dropping her groceries into one chair and her movies on the table. Jess arrived within a minute and set a cup of coffe down in front of her. She smiled up at him.

"What'll it be?" He had his hands on the back of an empty chair and he was leaning on it. His hair was "natural" again, as it had been ever since Rory had claimed to have liked it.

"Just a burger. And fries." A beat. "Wait...what kind of pie do you have?"

"Apple, pumpkin, and I think cherry?" He glanced over his shoulder at the counter. "Yeah, cherry."

"Ooh, pumpkin please. With whipped cream."

"Of course."

"And...yeah. That's all."

"Coming right up." He winked at her. Did people still do that?

She sipped her coffee to hide the blush.

* * *

"Oh, my God. Jess, tell Luke that this pie is incredible," she was talking with her mouth full, but she didn't really care.

"How about, no."

She rolled her eyes. He poured her more coffee. His gaze fell to the bag of movies. Setting the pot of coffee down on her table, he opened the bag up and browsed through her selections.

"Hey!" she said.

"What?" He raised his hands in defense, movies in each hand. "_Empire Records_?" He said, holding it up.

"It's a good movie," she said.

"I never said it wasn't. Oh, _Rushmore_, great movie. Wes Anderson is a genius."

"I know, right. I saw _Bottle Rocket_ with my mom last month. My life has changed. And the soundtrack alone is like..." she trailed off.

"What did you get all of these for, anyways? It's like, Tuesday."

"Oh, uh..." she blushed. "My mom is snowed in at some ski resort in Pennsylvania for a few days, so...it gets pretty boring without her. Even with all my homework."

He nodded, and a contemplative look spread across his face.

"Speaking of which, I should get going," she said. She glanced at her watch. It was already 9:00 at night. She stood and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. She had already paid, so she grabbed her groceries and movies. "I'll, um, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," he said, as she left.

* * *

The next morning was strange. Her mother wasn't home to complain about the ungodly hour at which she had woken up. There was no half-asleep mindless banter about how late they were or about how much they needed coffee. Just Rory, alone, in her big, big house. She dressed quickly, quietly. She turned on some music to fill the negative space. She sang along to "Ziggy Stardust" as it blared through her stereo speakers.

School was, well, school. Paris kept her after longer than was usual for the _Franklin_ meeting. She didn't get back to Stars Hollow until 5:15.

She plopped her bags on the floor by the counter, set her history text book on the floor next to it, and sat down.

"Coffee," she said. Luke saw the tired expression on her face and poured her a cup.

"Long day?" He asked.

Rory merely grunted in reply. She took a sip and muttered a "thank you." Outside, it began to snow.

Her mother always said that everything is magical when it snows. When Rory was just eight-years-old, it was late November, and it was the first snow of the year. They were walking through town as they always did. It was just the two of them, linked arms, walking through the square at night, surrounded by the old familiarity of their town and the Christmas lights that had just been put up in all the trees. That was the first time Rory ever saw the bridge. They spent so long outside and explored so much of the town that, after running out of places to go, they stumbled upon the old bridge. The snow-covered planks creaked softly beneath their combined weight as they walked across it. The lake was frozen over, and the soft glow of the moon's light glittered on its shiny surface. It was beautiful-breathtakingly so.

They later wandered into Luke's, and he made them hot chocolate with lots of mini-marshmallows. Luke made the best hot chocolate.

"I know you and your mom have some crazy tradition or something, so," Luke said, and he slid a cup of hot chocolate in front of her. "Here." His voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She could almost cry. She smiled at him a watery smile and said brightly, "Thank you, Luke." The snow fell harder now.

Luke just grinned at her and shook his head.

Rory ordered a burger and fries and ate it slowly. The snow continued to fall. The weather must have convinced people not to leave their homes, because business in the diner was relatively slow. As Rory was finishing up the last of her fries, Jess emerged from behind the curtain.

"School's cancelled," he said immediately to Luke, not noticing Rory quite yet.

"Seriously?" She asked.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, seriously," he said, nodding to her.

"They never cancel school." She furrowed her brow.

"Aparently there's some huge snowstorm that's about to hit. Or, I guess it's already started," he said, glancing out the window. "It's caused all sorts of problems out west, apparently." Like Lorelai's getting stuck for days in Pennsylvania. It must be a pretty bad storm, Rory thought.

"I guess I should head home, then," Rory said to herself. She bit her lip as she looked out the window.

"You want me to make you some stuff to go, in case you get stuck?" Luke offered.

"Actually, uh, yeah, that would be great." She nodded.

"It'll be a few minutes. Just sit tight. You want some more hot chocolate?" Luke could be so protective of Rory, especially in the absence of her mother. It's not like it was any sort of secret. He was more of a father to her than Chris had ever been.

"Could I get it in a to-go cup?"

"Here, I'll get it," Jess said. Luke headed into the kitchen to prepare Rory's food.

Ten minutes later, Luke came out from the kitchen carrying a cardboard box full of food.

"Oh. My God, Luke, that's just...wow, a lot of food." She peeked inside.

"Yeah, well, I know how much you eat, and it could be awhile."

"Thank you," was all she could come up with. That was all she had been saying to Luke lately, but she really was speechless. She grabbed her overstuffed backpack and her history text book and realized-

Crap. How was she going to carry the box? Jess must have been having the same thought because-

"I'll walk you home."

"You'll what?" Rory knew she shouldn't be surprised. Jess was uncharacteristically kind when it came to Rory. She knew that.

"You're hands are full. I'll carry the damn box."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," he said intently. She blushed. "I'll grab my coat."

He disappeared momentarily behind the curtain and returned moments later wearing his leather jacket with a grey hoodie underneath. Rory rolled her eyes.

"Let's go, Shaft," she said to him.

"Sure thing, Brittney," he replied, glancing at her skirt. She had gone straight from the bus stop to the diner. She was still wearing her uniform.

He picked up the box and was out the door. Rory grabbed her hot chocolate, said her goodbyes to Luke, and followed Jess into the cold. It was well below 20 degrees outside, probably even below 10. Rory's teeth chattered as they walked. The snow was falling heavily. She anchored her text book beneath her arm so that she could hold her hot chocolate with both hands, and she sipped it slowly. She followed behind him for most of the journey. They didn't talk, but the silence was not uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke. "You wanna take a detour?" He stopped in his tracks and starred off to the left. She followed his gaze to the path that led to the bridge.

"Everything is magical when it snows," she said under her breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, uh..." It really was cold outside, even for Rory, but she couldn't resist. Something in her was pulling her towards the lake, urging her to say yes. "Okay."

She followed him in silence again until they reached the middle of the bridge. He carefully set down the cardboard box. She placed her text book on top of it. He bent down and wiped a small patch of snow off the bridge. He sat down. She sat down next to him.

Despite the fact that she had worn her winter coat to school that day, her uniform didn't offer too much protection from the cold. She shivered. He scooted closer to her, so that their shoulders were touching.

She spoke. "My mom and I have this tradition where we take a walk around town during the first snow of the year," she said. There was a pause. "We put on all of our snow gear, even if it's just a flurry. That's how I found this bridge. We were exploring."

He pulled out a cigarette from one of his pockets and a lighter from another. He lit it. He took one drag, looked at the thing, and tossed it on to the frozen surface of the lake.

"And then we go to Luke's and he makes us hot chocolate. It's practically the only time we don't get coffee the whole year."

He looked at her, straight on. She returned his gaze. Their faces were so close together. Their breath-visible in the freezing cold-combined into a single white cloud between them.

"We should-" she began to say. He nodded. They continued to stare at each other. She was the first to break the gaze. She looked down and out to the frozen lake. She sighed. He stood up and offered her his hand, which she accepted. She shiverred again, and it didn't escape his notice.

"You're freezing." It was a statement.

"I'm fine," she said.

"No, you're not." A beat. "Come here."

She gave him a look of uncertainty. He laughed softly. "I'm not gonna bite, Rory. Jeez. Just, come here."

She stepped forward.

"Take your backpack off," he instructed. Silently, she obeyed. It was as if her body was moving of its own accord. She had no control over any of her actions. He did.

He stepped forward, too, closing the gap. He gripped the two sides of his unzipped leather jacket and pulled it open wider. With just a moment's hesitation, she slid her arms around his waist, between the rough inside of his leather jacket and the smooth fabric of his cotton hoodie. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter to him. She was instantly warm.

She turned her head to the side and leaned into his chest. She breathed in his scent: wet leather from where the snow had melted, cigarette smoke (but just barely), and what she could only assume to be the musty traces of cologne. It was wonderful. And then he did the single sweetest thing that he could possibly have done. In an act that showed both incredible carelessness and incredible self-restraint, he kissed her forehead, just below her hair line. She shiverred, but this time, it wasn't from the cold.

He misinterpreted the shiver, and he tightened his hold on her. She turned her head so that her forehead was resting on his chest. She looked up at him.

She wanted so badly to kiss him. Too badly. She knew that she couldn't, but she wanted to. Instead of kissing him, she rested her forehead on his. Slowly, they pulled away. The loss of his body heat was nothing compared to the loss of his touch. She was cold again, but she hardly noticed it. She was aching for him to hold her like that again. It was the single most intimate experience she had shared with another human being.

She picked up her backpack, her book, her hot chocolate. She took a sip. It was tepid. He grabbed her gigantic box of food and they continued to walk in silence.

* * *

**A/N:** It think I'm goint to leave it there. I'll post the next chapter soon enough, but this one feels like a complete chapter, so...yeah.

REVIEW. Please. I know I hate to ask and ask and ask, and it doesn't mean a thing. But I really am begging, here. I like, never write. And I am now. So, dammit, review. And none of that "good, update," crap. I'm talking like, mini-monologue, constructive masterpieces.

Okay, so a girl can dream, right?


	6. Snow, Part 2

**Shameless Self-Promotion:** I wrote a one-shot called _Motorcycle Drive By_ about Jess's time in Venice Beach. I don't usually like my own writing, but I really love this fic.

**Disclaimer:** Taken care of, by nature of me being not the owner of anything.

**A/N:** Oh. My God. I just got some of the most fantastic reviews in the history of, well...reviews. Thank you so, so so so much, especially to: _frequentlydazzledbylit_, _Sattelite-Of-Love_, and_Kurisuta1_, whose reviews far exceeded the requested length and quality.

This chapter is just a continuation of the previous chapter. I've been treating each chapter like a one-shot so far. It makes it easier for me, because I absolutely _suck_ at plot. However, I really really really love the snow thing, and, come on, Rory can't eat all that food by herself, can she? In case you don't read the second author's note, reviewwwwwww. Please n' thank you.

* * *

**Chapter 6:** Snow part 2

* * *

"This is much better."

She was wearing grey drawstring sweatpants with the words "Chilton Preparatory" on her left leg written in navy blue. She had pulled her hair out of her face with a simple black headband, and she was now wearing a white Harvard t-shirt with maroon lettering. Jess was pulling containers of food out of the spacious cardboard box.

"You're not going to eat all of this now, are you?" He asked.

"Oh, God no. I was thinking of ordering Indian tonight."

"You planning on burning the place down afterwards?"

"Very funny," she said. He started putting away the containers in the fridge. "Thanks for this, by the way."

"Anything to get out of the diner for a few hours."

"Is that why you're here? To get out of the diner for a few hours?"

"Should there be another reason?" He asked.

"I don't know, I was just thinking out loud."

"Do you want there to be another reason, Rory?" He had stopped putting the food away. He was facing her, looking her directly in the eyes.

She averted his gaze and withheld her reply. The phone rang. _Oh, thank God_, she thought.

"Hello?" She answered, slightly out of breath.

"Offspring!"

"Hi, Mom."

"How's the party?"

"Oh, you know. The band is in between sets, and I think someone just vomited on the area rug in the living room, but other than that..." Jess shot her a look of confusion from the kitchen.

"Hey, your grandmother bought us that carpet!" A beat. "Can you get them to vomit some more."

"You're gross." She crinkled her nose. "So, why'd you call?"

"Just wanted to see that my lovely daughter was doing okay. You're doing okay, aren't you?"

"I'm good. Luke made me this huge care package, so I'm good on food. School is cancelled tomorrow. I rented a ton of movies. And I think I'm going to order some Indian food later."

"Hey, do me a favor, burn the house down when you're done?"

"The smell is _not_ that bad," Rory said, defensively.

"Yes it is," Jess called from the kitchen.

"Uh...who's that?" Lorelai asked.

"Um, you know...Jess," Rory said, her voice weakly attempting casual-ness.

"Jess is there?"

"...Yes."

"...Why?"

She let out a sigh. "He carried Luke's care package home for me. My hands were full, and...He's just helping me unload everything now." A beat. "It was a very nice gesture."

Jess rolled his eyes in the kitchen. The elder Gilmore girl had more than a sneaking suspiscion that Jess was into Rory, which would have been fine, if Rory hadn't already had a boyfriend (who was a mother's dream). Lorelai didn't have anything against Jess personally, but she knew that he was trying to weasel his way into Rory's heart, and that was reason enough for her to develop a sort of instinctive maternal resentment.

"Where's Dean?"

"Work, I guess. Or maybe home now. I don't know. I saw him yesterday after you called. Does it matter?"

"I don't know, honey. It's just that you've been spending _so_ much time with Jess lately. You talk about him when you're not around him, you see him every day. Are you sure you're not-"

"Mom, can we please not have this conversation right now." Her cheeks were hot with embarassment. Jess smirked. He could only guess what conversation Rory didn't want to have right now.

"Okay, okay. I'll lay off. But as soon as I get home, we're having some _major_ girl talk."

"Fine," Rory said. "Speaking of which, do you have any idea _when_ you're coming home?"

"They've been pretty vague about it. I offered to sleep with the guy at the front desk for information-"

"Whoa, overshare," Rory said, cringing.

"-but I'm 84% positive he's gay. From what we've been told, there's a chance I could be home either late tomorrow night or the day after that. But apparently there is going to be even _more_snow..."

"Okay, just...call me as soon as you find out." Pause. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, sweetie. I love you. And _be careful_," she warned. "You know what I'm talking about."

Rory blushed. She threw a stray glance in Jess' direction, which he luckily didn't notice. "Yeah, I will. I love you, too. Bye."

"Bye." _Click_.

Rory went back into the kitchen.

"So, what were you two talking about?" Jess asked with a smirk.

"That's none of your business," Rory said, attempting to hide her blush. She scratched the back of her neck nervously.

"If you say so." He shut the refridgerator door. "Okay, everything is stored away. You should be able to eat for the next century."

"Please, you know how much I eat."

"Alright, the next week."

"That's more like it," she said, faking enthusiasm.

Silence washed over them. She didn't know if she was supposed to invite him to stay or not. He was still wearing his coat, so he obviously didn't intend to stay long, but he wasn't making any attempts to leave.

"So, do I get a tip?" He said.

"A what?"

"A tip. You know, for my services."

Rory smiled at no one in particular. She could just imagine her mother's voice in the background, saying, "Dirty!" And gasping in mock horror.

"No," she said.

"Come on, Rory. I carried that box all the way from the diner. I put your food away."

"Fine, fine. You can have some food."

He removed his jacket.

"You're staying?" She asked and raised her eyebrows. She didn't exactly _mind_, but it was getting late, and the snow wasn't exactly falling more slowly than it had been earlier. It would be dark in half an hour, and one or two inches had already accumulated outside...

"Well, yeah. You said I could have some food. That sounded invitation-like." A beat. "What, are you withdrawaing, because I could always go..."

"No, it's fine. You can stay. But it's getting dark outside."

"Thank God they invented flashlights."

She shot him a look.

He raised his hands defensively. She rolled her eyes and went back to the phone. She dialed.

"Hello?...Yes, I'd like to place an order...Gilmore...Yes, that's the correct address...I'll hold..." She pressed her hand to the reciever. "Jess, you want anything from Sandeep's?"

"I'm good."

She placed her order, and she wrote down the total cost on a post it note. She grabbed a twenty from beneath the rabbi. Her mother had at least left her enough money. She disappeared into her room for a few moments, and she returned with the bag of movies from the video store.

"So, which one first?" She asked him, holding up the bag.

* * *

"I'm stuffed," she declared.

"Yeah, me too," he said.

They were sitting on opposite ends of her couch. She was tucked comfortably beneath a _Harry Potter_ throw blanket. He had removed his hoodie, and it lay crumpled in a ball on the floor beside the coffee table. The table was covered in food. Lots of food. The Indian take-out. The red vines, the mallomars, the Doritos, Fritos, Cheetoes. All the eat-os. Some cold french fries from the diner.

"I mean, I don't think I can ever eat again," Rory said.

"You're just saying that. You'll probably be hungry in fifteen minutes."

_"Oh, shit. It's Mr. Creosote. Swim away!"_ They were nearing the end of _Meaning of Life_, and Mr. Creosote was about to detonate.

"That's ironic," Jess remarked.

"Do you think I'll explode if I eat anything else?"

"I'd rather not test that theory."

"Right."

_"It's just a waffer thin, sir." _Mr. Creosote grumbled something or other. He ate the waifer, and boom! He exploded all over the fancy dining room.

"I love this movie," Rory said. She grabbed a handful of Doritos and began munching.

* * *

_"My top schools where I want to apply are Oxford and the Sorbonne. Harvard's my safety._" Rory quoted effortlessly in time with the movie.

"How many times have you seen this?" Jess asked, amazed.

"Like, eleven," she said. "Shhh, this is my favorite part."

"You've said that three times already."

Rory watched as Max Fischer, played by the young Jason Schwartzmen, chatted up Miss Cross. _Rushmore_ was easily one of her all time favorite movies.

She had moved so that she was lying on her side now, almost in the fetal position. Jess was sitting with his head propped up on his hand, his elbow rested on the armrest.

"He's so confident. But he's not good at anything," Rory said.

"What are you talking about? He's in like 9 million clubs," Jess replied.

"Yeah, he does a lot of things, but he isn't very good at any one of them. Except for the plays he writes. And his plays are the only things he gets nervous about."

"What about that math problem he solved?"

"That took place during a dream sequence," she answered, looking at Jess. "That's right, you got up to get more soda during the beginning of the movie. Haven't you seen this movie before?"

"I've seen it before. I guess I never noticed that he was dreaming."

She shook her head. "Get with it, Jess. You're getting careless."

"Yeah. At least I don't snore." He smirked.

She kicked him.

"Hey!" He said.

"I do not snore!"

"Yeah, then what would you call that erratic nasal breathing thing you were doing in the middle of _Love, Actually_?"

"My head was tilted all funny. I couldn't breath properly," she said, defensively. She knew she couldn't win.

"Yeah, okay," he said. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

He thought she looked so perfect like that. Just a t-shirt and sweatpants, curled up on the couch, her straight brown hair cascaded modestly on the sofa pillows, a blush fixed perpetually on her face. He loved that he could make her do that. Blush like that.

She caught him starring at her. "What?" She said. He thought it was funny that she thought something was wrong.

"Nothing," he said, turning his attention back to the movie. Nothing at all.

* * *

"Okay, so...I'm thinking you can take the couch," she said, her voice filled with amazement. They were standing on her front porch, freezing their butts off. He was rubbing his hands together and she had her arms wrapped around herself.

More than a foot of snow had fallen so far, and it was continuing still to fall as hard as ever. It was well past 11:00, anyways. There was no way in hell Jess was walking home.

"Guess I'd better call Uncle Luke then, huh," he said.

She nodded in agreement and hugged herself more tightly.

"Hey, it's Jess...No, would you relax. I'm fine, jeez...We watched some movies...Yeah, I'm still there...Look, she's the one who offered, alright. She said I could crash on the couch." After rolling his eyes, he held the phone out to Rory. "He wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Luke," Rory said.

"Is everything alright there? Is the thermostat working?"

"Luke, everything is fine."

"Are you sure? Because I can come over there if you need me to." Rory smiled at this.

"I appreciate it, really. But we're fine. I've got plenty of food-thank you, by the way. There are candles under the sink in case the power goes out. And flashlights on top of the fridge. Jess can crash on the couch until the storm passes."

Luke sighed. "I'm really sorry about all this, Rory."

"For what?"

"For getting you stuck with Jess. I know how much trouble he can be."

"He hasn't been trouble." Jess raised his eyebrows at this, and Rory blushed. She turned to avoid his gaze. "I don't mind, Luke. Really."

Luke grunted. "Okay. Just, let me know if you need anything."

"I will, I promise."

"Okay. Take care."

"Night, Luke." She hung up first.

There was a brief silence. A serious expression formed on her face. And then she said, "_Empire Records_?"

He smirked.

* * *

It was the sunlight that woke her up. At first, her vision was blurred. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and yawned. She ran a hand through her hair before sitting up. She was on the couch. The comforter from her bed was now on top of the Harry Potter throw she had been using last night, and her favorite pillow had mysteriously found its way beneath her head.

Jess was fast asleep in the armchair, his feet propped up on the ottoman. He had found a pillow and a blanket somehow. The linen closet wasn't exactly difficult to find. The fact that he had gone into her room last night after she had passed out and tucked her in was just too much for her comprehend. It was such a sweet thing to do. She smiled affectionately at his sleeping form. She pushed the covers off of her and realized at once how cold it was in the house. She raised her arms to the sky and let out a deep yawn. She got up and set the thermostat a few degrees higher. She heard it click on.

There was plenty of coffee in the cupboard, thank God. They drank so frequently at Luke's that they had plenty of it at home. She poured in the maximum amount of water possible and dumped in an appropriate enough about of coffee. It couldn't possibly be too strong for her, and she didn't really care what it tasted like. She was just tired.

Then she went to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and her hair. She washed her face and put on a little concealer to hide her few blemishes. She applied some chapstick, because, well, her lips were chapped. And, yes, Jess was there. Sue her for wanting to at least vaguely resemble a girl.

By the time she was finished in the bathroom, her coffee was nearly ready. She pulled down two mugs and poured the hot liquid into the both of them. She couldn't remember if Jess drank coffee or not, but she would always just drink his if he didn't. She set the two mugs down on the coffee table and went back into the kitchen to pour herself a bowl of Lucky Charms.

She turned on the news, careful to make sure the volume was low enough as to not wake Jess. Sure enough, nearly every county in Connecticut had cancelled school. It was the worst blizzard in a decade. It said that it had snowed between 15' and 30' in different locations throughout New England. Regardless, it was a lot of snow. She glanced out the window and saw that her mailbox was almost covered.

Okay, so Jess wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Sighing, she switched from local to cable news. Rory was one of the small percentage of teenagers who would watch CNN, MSNBC, hell, even C-SPAN, uninterrupted, all day long.

She downed her first cup of coffee with ease. Just as she was finishing it, Jess began to wake.

"Good morning," she said, her voice oddly chipper.

He yawned. "What time is it?" He asked.

"10-ish. I forgot, do you drink coffee," she said, and she yawned, too, finding his contagious.

He nodded, still a little bit out of it. "Not like you, though." He smiled as he said it.

"Hah." she said. "Well, there's some for you right there." She motioned to the coffee table.

"Thanks," he said, picking the mug up. He took a sip, and he nearly spit the hot liquid out once it had entered his mouth. "This is black," he said, a look of disgust on his face.

"Yeah?" she said, innocently. It wasn't an act.

He set the cup down on the coffee table. "Never mind," he muttered. She smiled to herself. She really hadn't considered that he wouldn't want black coffee. She was just so used to it. She shrugged her shoulders, picked up his rejected mug, and began drinking from it herself.

"You know I put my mouth on that, right?" He said, smirking.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

"We have Lucky Charms, if you want."

He got up and went into the kitchen to grab himself a bowl of cereal. When he returned a few minutes later with the Lucky Charms in one hand and a mug in the other, he sat them down on the coffee table and said, "Can we watch something else?"

* * *

"I don't do a leather jacket, punk-vibey thing, whatever that is. It's warm, and it's durable. I listen to the music I do because my dad left all of his old CDs when he skipped town, which, believe me, is the only decent thing he ever did, and I started smoking to deal with the stress of having _Liz Danes_ for a mother."

Her expression of amusement quickly faded. She swirled the coffee around in her mug and starred into it's caffeinated depths. CNN had caused them to start talking lightly about politics, and Rory had commented that Jess's Holden Caulfield complex made him seem like a weird, Dead Kennedeys-esque communist-anarchist hybrid. Jess objected a little more seriously than she'd anticipated he would.

"Just because you think I fit some kind of typecast mold doesn't mean I do," he said, taking another bite. "Besides," he added more lightly, "I've never been one to live up to people's expectations."

There was silence, save for the sound of Soledad O'Brien's voice in the background. After a moment, Rory grabbed the remote from the coffee table and passed it to him.

He changed it to Cartoon Network. The Jetsons were on. Rory cracked a smile.

Politics and Jess. A bit no-no. She cataloged that piece of information in her brain's ever expanding Jess file.

She laughed involuntarily when Jess attempted to mimick the sound of the Jetsons' spacecar, his mouth full of soggy Lucky Charms. Maybe she wouldn't catalog that one.

* * *

"You don't have _Huckleberry Finn_?" He asked, incredulously.

"I checked it out of the library when we read it for school," she admitted. Her voice betrayed a hint of shame. "I didn't like it enough to buy it."

He shook his head and continued to browse her bookshelf. Rory was sitting on her bed reading _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_. She laughed at one scene in which Elizabeth observed Mr. Darcy beheading the newly undead kitchen staff at Netherfield.

"I'm borrowing that, by the way," he said upon hearing the soft giggle escape her lips.

"When I'm finished," she said, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. Jess finally settled himself on Salinger's _Nine Stories_. He opened immediately to "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" and seated himself on a beanbag chair.

Rory looked up at him and snorted (chortled?) at the sight of Jess sitting in a beanbag chair on the floor of her room reading Salinger. If ever there were an oxymoron...

He raised his eyebrows and wiggled a little in his seat, making himself more comfortable.

"There's an armchair, you know," Rory said.

"Oh, but this beanbag chair just seemed so inviting," he droned, reading his book. It was a short story about a suicide, though currently, the protagonist betrayed no indication that he desired to take his own life. Rory looked out the window. She could see icicles hanging from the gutters. The trees were completely covered in snow. The porch railings themselves had accumulated inches of the white stuff.

He shifted slightly. "Do you mind if I put on some music?" He asked.

"Of course not. There's a box under my bed." She read, and he got up to browse her music selection. She added, "That's just my personal collection. All the stuff I share with my mom is in the living room. That's where you'll find most of the 80s."

He nodded silently.

The Shins. Dresden Dolls. Macy Gray. About ten albums from some chick named Sam Phillips. Ash. XTC. The Vandals. The Smiths. Elvis Costello _and_ Marshall Crenshaw. He finally decided on The Buzzcocks' _Singles Going Steady_. He put it into her 5-disc CD changer, which already housed a Bowie greatest hits album, a Ted Leo mix CD, Death Cab for Cutie's _You Can Play These Songs with Chords_, and _More Adventurous_ by Rilo Kiley.

"I met Ted Leo," he said, upon seeing the CD in her player.

"No way," she said, losing the starring contest she was having with her trade paperback.

"In New York. It was actually right before I got here. My friend Danny got up on stage with him and played guitar while he sang. He let us hang out with him after the show."

Rory's eyes lit up as he recounted his experience.

"That is so not fair," was all she could come up with. She suddenly found it hard to concentrate, but she pretended to be engrossed with her book again. Jess pressed play and skipped the album's first track. It was called "Orgasm Addict." He would spare Rory the discomfort. He nodded his head in time to the music, as did she.

"I'm hungry," she finally said, and she got up to heat one of Luke's care-package burgers.

Jess turned the volume up so that the music was blaring. Babette and Maury would probably be able to hear it, but Jess really didn't care. He left Rory's door wide open when he left the room.

"I just want a lover like any other, what do I get? I'm in distress I need a caress, what do I get?" Jess sang along quietly as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a random container. He peered inside. French fries.

He looked upon the container with disdain.

"What's the matter?" Rory asked. She was standing facing the microwave, waiting for her burger to heat up.

He tilted the container so she could see its contents.

"So...?"

"Reheated french fries suck," he said. She pouted.

"They do suck."

He had better luck the second time around. The next container housed a burger as well, and he popped it into the microwave.

They ate without speaking. The words weren't necessary as the Buzzcocks were currently filling the silence. They did most of the talking.

* * *

_Ever fallen in love with someone?_

_Ever fallen in love-_

_In love with someone?_

_Ever fallen in love,_

_In love with someone you shouldn't've fallen in love with?_

* * *

"Go fish," she said, smiling triumphantly.

Reluctantly, Jess slid his hand into the middle of the table and picked a card from the top of the deck.

"Got any 2s?" Rory asked.

He handed over a pair of 2s. Rory laid all four 2s on the table. She only had one card left in her hand.

"Your turn," she said.

"Are you holding a 6?"

"No, you're supposed to say, 'Got any sixes?' Not, 'are you holding a whatever.' There are rules to follow.'"

"Well, do you?"

She paused. "Go fish."

"Jeez," he muttered. He added another card to his hand. "Hah," he said, reckognizing that he had finally made a triple. He laid down three 4s. "That means I get to go again, right?"

She nodded, amused.

"Okay...are you holding a 10?"

She rolled her eyes and handed over her lone card.

He smiled for a moment, until she said, "I still win, smart one. I can't believe you've never played 'go fish.'"

"Excuse me, I was too busy having a troubled childhood." He smirked.

"My name is Jess. My daddy left me with an awesome CD and vinyl collection when I was 8 months old, and I never learned to play G-rated card games. Observe as I brood," she mocked.

"My name is Rory. My mom named me after herself because she was too drugged up to think clearly in the hospital, and I freaked out when Jess suggested we play strip poker, so I challenged him to a riveting game of go fish. Watch me shift uneasily under his brooding stare."

She shifted uneasily under his brooding stare. "Hey!" she said, obviously upset that he had predicted exactly what she was about to do. "That's not fair."

"Neither was asking me for my 2s after I asked you if you had any, but you don't see me complaining."

She stuck her tongue out at him. He raised his eyebrows at her before throwing a piece of kettle corn at her head.

It landed squarely in the middle of her forehead. Her jaw dropped. She quickly grabbed a handful of Cheetoes and tossed them in his direction.

"Why, Miss Gilmore. Are you challenging me to a food fight?" His smirk had grown to a full fledged smile.

She merely gave him her best aren't-you-just-dying-to-know stare and placed her hands on her hips. For a moment, neither of them moved a muscle. She saw his arm twitch slightly, though, and she practically dove for the fridge. It escalated quickly. They started with the dry foods, of course, for practical reasons. It was easiest to grab, to aim, to throw. Rory found a container of the despicable cold french fries and began hurling them in Jess's general direction. Her aim was not so good. He ran into the living room and returned with a handful of left-over samosas. She attempted to dodge them, but his practiced arm was too accurate for her girlish reflexes.

"Oh, it's on," she said. She grabbed a bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup from the fridge. His smile quickly faded. He grabbed the bowl of snacks from the kitchen table and began backing up slowly.

"You wouldn't," he said, eyeing the chocolate sauce nervously. _She_ was making _him_ nervous.

"Wouldn't what?" Her voice was innocent. She approached him slowly, dangling the bottle of syrup from her index finger. She snapped open the top and raised her arms to squirt the chocolate at Jess, but before she could successfully cover him in the sticky stuff, he reached out to her sides and began tickling her.

"Jess!" She squealed. "Stop. Stop, this isn't funny," she said, lauging uncontrollably. She fell to the ground, but he was relentless.

"I think it's hilarious," he said.

He finally stopped. He was kneeling on the ground beside her, the bottle of Hershey's long forgotten. She was panting for breath. She sat up slowly and smacked his arm. They glanced around the room. Luckily they hadn't progressed past the dry snack foods, although the broken bits of things would still be difficult to clean up.

"We had a food fight," she said.

"Huh."

"I mean, it's such a cliche. No one actually has food fights."

"We did," he said.

"Good point."

"So..."

"...We have to clean it up," she pouted.

* * *

"So, you talked to Luke?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He said the roads are still bad."

"Huh."

"You can take the couch this time," Rory said, yawning. "I'm gonna turn in."

_Knock knock knock_.

They starred, wide-eyed, at Rory's front door.

"Who do you think it is?" Rory asked, genuinely concerned. You'd have to be crazy to go outside right now.

"Publisher's Clearing House?" He offered.

"Funny."

"I don't know, just answer it."

"I'm not answering it!"

"Then you'll never find out."

"Rory, are you there?" The voice called.

Rory's stomach did about 10 thousand backflips. _Dean._

"Hide," Rory instructed.

"What, you want me to just hop in a closet?"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Now hide."

Jess rolled his eyes.

"Jess, if you do not hide, so help me God, I will-"

The door opened. _Shit. _Dean flexed his jaw. His fists clenched. His whole body tensed.

"What the _fuck_ is he doing here, Rory." Rory froze. She put her head in her hands and wished that she was anywhere but in her living room.

"I take it bag boy didn't know I was here, huh?" She shot Jess a death glare. His smirk actually faded.

"Rory?" Dean asked.

"Dean, please, just...sit down or something."

"No. Not until you tell me what's going on."

Rory sighed heavily. "Dean, please. Sit."

"No."

"You'd better do what she says, man," Jess said.

"Stay out of it," Rory and Dean said in unison. Jess raised his hands in mock apology. He sat down on the couch and began flipping through an issue of _Jane_ magazine.

"Explain," Dean said firmly.

Rory stepped into the kitchen. Dean followed closely behind her.

"My mom is snowed in in Pennsylvania. Luke made me a care package. I couldn't carry it so Jess offered to do it. I let him have some food, and he got snowed in while we were eating." She seemed to say it all in one breath. She closed her eyes when she was done, bracing herself for Dean's reaction.

"You lied to me, Rory." Dean said, his voice hitching a little.

"I know," she said, nodding and she let out a small sob. She shut her eyes more tightly.

Dean was too overwhelmed to even be angry. "I don't think this is going to work, anymore."

Rory was shaking now. She was sad, yes, that Dean was breaking up with her. But more than anything, she was disgusted with herself. She had lied to and manipulated someone who genuinely loved her. She was a horrible person. She nodded as Dean spoke. His voice was gentle, and it angered Rory. He should be yelling, and punching things. Now she would have no one to be angry at but herself.

"My mom made a pot roast. I brought you leftovers." It was too much. Too much. She needed him to tell her how horrible she was. That she was the worst person on the planet. No, he gave her his mom's leftover pot roast.

"Goodbye, Rory."

Rory didn't respond. Dean left, and Rory sunk down to the floor. She didn't care who saw her. She was a mess.

Jess walked slowly into the kitchen and sat down on the floor next to Rory. She looked at him and continued to cry.

"I can leave...if you want."

Rory shook her head.

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze before sliding down to the ground next to her. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried.


End file.
